At 41, I can spot the exact moment someone decides there must be something wrong with me.

It usually arrives just after they ask whether I’ve ever been married and I say no. Their head tilts and suddenly I’m reassured ‘there’s still time’ – even though I never asked to be consoled.

Then come the questions. Have I considered being a little less picky? Am I putting myself out there enough? Am I not worried about being alone? Or the recent doozy from a relative: ‘Darling, are you sure you’re not a lesbian?’

Sadly not. My taste in men is just really, really bad. Most days, I laugh it off, but every so often – around a birthday or after another wedding invitation – panic creeps in. Especially if the wedding is a female friend’s second; how the heck have they found two blokes to marry in their 40-or-so years, when I’m yet to find one?

I start wondering whether I should have tried harder with an awful ex (though a quick walk down memory lane assures me, no). I also find myself agreeing to dates with men I would normally decline. Again, I realise that’s a recipe for disaster.

‘Have fun living with a bunch of cats,’ one ex spat after I wisely gave him the boot.

OK, Brian. Best of luck with that receding hairline, champ.

Yet while I don’t want children, so don’t have to stress about a biological clock, the quiet shame of being ‘the last one’ single is all too real. Let’s be honest, marriage is still treated as the moment a woman’s proper adult life begins.

Jana Hocking, 41, admits that even though she doesn't want children she still feels a sense of pressure and shame about being the last single woman among her female friends

Seeing Mel C get married to Chris Dingwall at 52, I felt a sense of relief for love in later life writes Jana

So when I saw that last weekend former Spice Girl Mel C had got married – for the first time – at 52, I felt something I hadn’t expected.

Relief. Which is slightly embarrassing, as by 41 you become very skilled at pretending you don’t need reassurance that you will get your ‘happily ever after’.

You tell everyone you’re happy with the way things are. You point to your career, your much-used passport and the fact you can stretch across the bed without a large, snoring man accusing you of stealing the duvet. All of which is true.

But I found myself staring at Mel C’s wedding photos with the emotional intensity of a 1900s woman receiving word from the front.

Because she’s given us late-in-life singles something we rarely get: proof that being the last single one doesn’t mean love has passed you by.

Sporty Spice met her new husband – Australian model Chris Dingwall, also 52 – on the dating app Raya when she was 49, when most single women have already endured years of warnings that the dating pool is shrinking. Before meeting him, she declared she ‘never wanted to meet anyone ever again’, which I found far too relatable. Any woman who has used a dating app has made a similar announcement. It normally follows an evening spent swiping past men holding dead fish or describing ‘banter’ as their love language.

Then along came Chris. A man she has described as a ‘gentle soul’, who stays quietly supportive without being overly interfering. At 21, I would have found that description terribly dull. Where was the drama?

However, at 41, a gentle man who respects personal space sounds almost erotic.

Chris also appears to have entered a life that was already very full. He didn’t have to rescue Mel from a lonely existence or provide the missing piece that made her complete. She simply loved having him there enough to keep him. That feels like a rather good reason to marry someone.

When you think about it, it’s slightly bonkers that we women are encouraged to make this decision while we’re still young enough to believe ‘chemistry’ can compensate for almost anything.

Mel C at her wedding with former Spice Girls Mel B, left, Geri Halliwell-Horner and Emma Bunton, right

It took me well into my 30s to learn how to stop romanticising red flags. I’ve seen so many friends marry the exciting man, then discover excitement is far less charming when he has disappeared for the night. By 49, I imagine a woman has a much clearer understanding of the qualities she can actually live with.

There is also far less temptation to marry just for the ‘dream’ wedding. By now, I’ve attended enough to know the expensive flowers will die, someone will get horribly drunk and the photographs will eventually be shoved into a cupboard. The man is the part you have to keep.

Of course, some people meet their person at 25 and remain deliriously happy. But I call these ‘unicorn’ marriages because of their increasing rarity.

Many others follow the approved timeline, only to reach their 40s and realise they made the biggest decision of their lives while confusing anxiety with attraction. Yet somehow, those of us who waited are treated as though we made the risky choice.

I’ve spent years wondering whether I should have held on to someone unsuitable simply because he was there. Thankfully, seeing how happy Mel C looked on her big day reminded me I’m glad I didn’t.

So, no, I won’t be dragging the next vaguely presentable man into a jeweller’s shop.

I’ll keep dating. I’ll probably delete the apps in fury again and perhaps acquire a cat, if only to frighten the Brians of the world.

But I no longer feel as though I’m standing outside a door that has already closed.

Sporty Spice met her husband at 49. I’m 41.

For once, I appear to be ahead of schedule.